It’s the most wonderful time of the year!
Or…
Not.
Maybe it’s the most depressing time of the year… and your spirit feels more deflated than elated. All the carol-singing, hall-decking, cookie-baking, merry-makers posting cutesy-captioned pictures of gingerbread houses and holiday lights just make you feel…
Bluer than blue.
Maybe the holidays are just an annual reminder of all you’ve lost.
(Or never had.)
Or maybe you’re typically the jolly/joyful/jingle-bell type… but this year – this terribly trying year – the countdown to Christmas isn’t at all magical. Instead of luminously merry and bright… December seems ominously gloomy and grey.
Believe me, you’re not alone in that sense. 2020 was a sucker punch to the gut for most of us.
And for others…
It was a killer.
Worldwide, Covid has claimed the lives of nearly 1.5 million people. And here at home, we’re careening toward 300,000. And that doesn’t include the people fighting for their lives at this very moment. (Or the ones who’ve become victims of Covid in other ways: anxiety, abuse, overdose, divorce, isolation, depression, hunger, joblessness, bankruptcy, suicide.)
Life.
Is.
Hard.
The whole of it. Even in seasons of celebration, there’s still a touch of wistfulness… sadness… grief that lingers.
Then there are times like this.
When a pandemic, a political chasm and a personal crisis all come together… and we feel like we may (at any moment) fall apart.
Heart shattered/hope dashed/help nowhere in sight.
If this is all there is, we’ve got good reason to despair. Because the world is pretty wrecked.
In recent days:
A friend’s husband died of Covid.
A cousin was hospitalized.
A childhood friend suffered a mental health crisis.
Another checked into rehab.
A young family with three kids lost their home.
A ministry partner lost his job.
A neighbor reported domestic violence.
A friend (who’s like family) went on hospice.
And my husband lost a co-worker to suicide.
(And that’s just in my little corner of the world.)
All that awful… is why we need a little Christmas… right this very minute.
A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn…
No doubt this weary world is desperate for a thrill of hope. (Or just a teeny tiny glimmer even.)
Got hope?
(I know Obi-Wan Kenobi may seem like the answer… but *spoiler alert* he’s just a figment of George Lucas’ imagination.)
Hope isn’t supposed to be the stuff of science fiction or fairy tales. And it shouldn’t be fleeting or fragile either.
It’s meant to be real as a beating heart.
A helping hand.
A promise kept.
A certain rescue.
Hope was born one starry night. And He’s here for you/me/us still.
The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness— on them light has shined. ~ Isaiah 9:2 (NRSV)
Light has a name.
Love has a name.
Hope has a name.
It’s Jesus.
Santa Claus is a legend, a myth. The Christmas tree – as lovely as it is – is artificial. (Or dead.) And the Elf on the Shelf is just… child’s play/pointless/ parental hassle. (< You pick.)
But Jesus. He’s real.
And he’s ready/willing/able to come when you call…
Stay with you and never leave…
Make himself at home in your heart. (And mine.)
We are like common clay jars that carry this glorious treasure within, so that the extraordinary overflow of power will be seen as God’s, not ours. Though we experience every kind of pressure, we’re not crushed. At times we don’t know what to do, but quitting is not an option. We are persecuted by others, but God has not forsaken us. We may be knocked down, but not out. We continually share in the death of Jesus in our own bodies so that the resurrection life of Jesus will be revealed through our humanity. ~ 2 Corinthians 4:7-10, 16-18 (TPT)
It’s the light of Jesus that shines in us, despite our brokenness. (Or perhaps… through it.)
It’s his light that extinguishes darkness when it threatens to swallow us whole.
It’s his love that comforts us and carries us through. It’s his kindness that quells hate and heals heartbreak…
And hopelessness too.
One of my dearest friends (who happens to be Jewish, which may or may not be profoundly relevant here) recently shared with me the news that the “Christmas star” will light up our night sky this month for the first time in 800 years.
You know what that means? It means we will get a glimpse of the same heavenly glory that the angels and kings and shepherds saw once upon a time. The star (the brilliance of two planets – Jupiter and Saturn – briefly aligning) that announced the arrival of one precious, perfect newborn Babe.
The star that shone over the place where LOVE was born.
The star of Bethlehem.
That “star” was meant to be a sign… a guiding light leading straight to the One who is Light. A beacon illuminating the way to the One who is the Way.
That star was a thrill of hope.
And it still is.
This year has taken so much from us.
Jobs.
Health.
Homes.
Businesses.
Dreams.
Loved ones. Far too many loved ones.
287,825 families find themselves grieving this Christmas. And that’s the cruelest toll of all: the loss of…
Togetherness.
Because despair nearly always comes laced with loneliness or grief.
So if you’re desperate for a glimmer of hope… looking for a reason to hold on…
Eyes to the sky, sweet friend. That Christmas star will be shining for you. A reminder that you’re not alone. Jesus is waiting for you.
Even when you can’t be near the people you love, the One who loves you best is near.
Just call his name. Immanuel.
God with us.
(And he is.)
Wendy
P.S. Please share.
Wendy with a Why 